"Well, you're not going to study while you're here," said Mrs. Allen, "and after we get Nan packed off on Thursday, you and I are going to have lovely times. You must stay with me as long as you can, for I shall be dreadfully lonesome without my own girl." "Thank you, dear Mrs. Allen, I am very happy here, and I love to stay with you; but of course I can stay only as long as our Easter vacation lasts. I must go back to New York the early part of next week." "Well, we'll cram all the fun possible into the few days you are here then," and Patty's gay little hostess bustled away to look after her household appointments. Mrs. Allen was of a social, pleasure-loving nature. Indeed, it was often said that she cared more for parties and festive gatherings than did her daughter Nan. Nobody was surprised to learn that Nan Allen was to marry a man many years older than herself. The surprise came when they met Mr. Fairfield and discovered that that gentleman appeared to be much younger than he undoubtedly was. For Patty's father, though nearly forty years old, had a frank, ingenuous manner, and a smile that was almost boyish in its gaiety. Mrs. Allen was in her element superintending her daughter's wedding, and the whole affair was to be on a most elaborate scale. Far more so than Nan herself wished, for her tastes were simple, and she would have preferred a quieter celebration of the occasion. But as Mrs. Allen said, it was her last opportunity to provide an entertainment for her daughter, and she would not allow her plans to be thwarted. So preparations for the great event went busily on. Carpenters came and enclosed the wide verandas, and decorators came and hung the newly made walls with white cheese cloth, and trimmed them with garlands of green. The house was invaded with decorators, caterers, and helpers of all sorts, while neighbours and friends of Mrs. Allen and of Nan flew in and out at all hours. The present-room was continually thronged by admiring friends who never tired of looking at the beautiful gifts already upon the tables, or watching the opening of new ones. "There's the thirteenth cut-glass ice-tub," said Nan, as she tore the tissue paper wrapping from an exquisite piece of sparkling glass. "I should think it an unlucky number if I didn't feel sure that one or two more would come yet." "What are you going to do with them all, Nan?" asked one of her girl friends; "shall you exchange any of your duplicate gifts?" "No indeed," said Nan, "I'm too conservative and old-fashioned to exchange my wedding gifts. I shall keep the whole thirteen, and then when one gets broken, I can replace it with another. Accidents will happen, you know." "But not thirteen times, and all ice-tubs!" said Patty, laughing. "You'll have to use them as individuals, Nan. When you give a dinner party of twelve, each guest can have a separate ice-tub, which will be very convenient."